


Buckey gets Fxckey (UNFINISHED)

by Obscxrity



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Character Study, Graphic Description of Corpses, M/M, Mentioned Transwoman Cronut, Necrophilia, Organ Liquification, Rape Fantasy, Sex Toys, headcanon heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:42:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26876878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obscxrity/pseuds/Obscxrity
Summary: Unfinished Character Introspective piece mixed with Buckeys Necrophilia
Relationships: Buckey/Agent Oregon, Buckey/Dead Freelancers
Kudos: 6





	Buckey gets Fxckey (UNFINISHED)

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to finish this, but... Oop. Motivation lost. Hopefully at the very least it inspires someone else to make more content for the Best Team, the Blues and Reds.

It wasn’t often Temple let anyone into his museum, down to the depths of his innermost depravity, to bear witness to the trophies all dedicated to  _ Biff _ . 

Buckey had to snort, under his helmet, at how venomous his own thoughts were, thinking of Biff as if he wasn’t what allowed him to awaken into the beast he was, hadn’t allowed Temple to transform all of them into monsters of different descript. Biff was like their version of Jesus Christ, a martyr for a cause that was inevitable even if he hadn't bit the dust in such a laughably tragic way( _ was it tragic? no one saw it, only Temples words reaching the rest of the Blues and Reds, though the man swore they had all seen it _ ).

Temple was secretive, even with his own teammates. They all knew about the Museum, knew how easily he convinced the Freelancers that he was some harmless, middle-aged ex-sim trooper that wanted -  **_needed_ ** \- their help, that he was willing to work with them, to achieve any goal they might have had in mind. All of them came off as just idiots, and not the well-oiled machine they were. They always ended up down there, in the end, reeking of death and liquified organs. Their stench stuck in Buckeys nostrils even when he wasn’t anywhere near them, mouth watering, craving, filled of want.

It wasn’t often, at all, that Temple let anyone into his perfect museum. But today - Oh boy,  _ today  _ \- Temple was in a good mood, his voice pitch perfect in that way that made it easier to talk to him, to not scare even  _ Loco _ away from him. The perfect time to ask for access to his private collection.

Temple, helmet off, only so much as raised a dark eyebrow at Buckey when he asked, and a simple push of a button all the affirmation Buckey needed to all but run down, speeding by Temple, heat growing in the pit of his gut with every imperfect, and ill-timed step.

Biff, dead as he may be, may have been rolling in his grave, knowing that his best friend had given birth to such a fucked bunch after his untimely demise, his ghost watching as Buckey palmed at himself, codpiece discarded the instant the huge doors slid open for him, with a horrified look to his eye -- Picturing it just turned Buckey on more, cock hard as steel, he was sure he could cut glass with it. Suck it, you dead motherfucking prick(  _ he was a good man _ ).

There were so many to choose from - The frozen, stiff, rotting corpses of so many freelancers, so many who had wronged them(  _ had they? _ ), who deserved to be defiled, to be dry humped and splattered with Buckeys cum. It was just a matter of picking who he wanted, whose pose made him drip and throb.

Last time it had been Indiana, his outstretched knee perfect to straddle and hump, helmet at the perfect angle for Buckey to needily mouth at his visor, to cradle his head and pant dirty nothings to between heady licks and kisses. It was hot. So fucking hot. Buckey glanced toward Indiana, question hanging in the air as he took the needed portions of his armour off, helmet dropping alongside smaller bits, to sit with his codpiece.

No, no. Indiana was a slender god, sure, his bones rattling beautifully within his armour when Buckey got especially excited, but why stifle himself to just one man? There were so many others, after all.

Oh! Wait, he had an idea.

Taking a moment to trot to some shadowed, forgotten part of the museum, a place he knew Temple completely ignored in favour of staring at his collection, dead eyed and dull. A few times ago, of being especially horny for some of the male Freelancers, Buckey hid away a special dildo - stolen from Cronut, without her ever knowing, as prettily pink as her armour(  _ it was whitish red _ ), and only about 6 inches. Average. What Buckey felt comfortable taking the first time, when he craved so deeply to have the rotting, puss filled cock of a corpse filling him to the brim. It also squirted, which was fun.

Only a few of the Freelancers had ideal poses for attaching the base of the cock to. Alaska, Arizona, Oregon… The others, sure they were more neutral, but Buckey wanted something dynamic, to really immerse himself in the thoughts of bending over for whichever near hulking mass it was, to picture them, on their last leg of life, blood and spit coating his back as they raped him, tortured him with their cock, as revenge for mortally wounding them, driving into him to try and reach that one, final orgasm before death -

A quick glance over the bodies had his mind racing, trying to pick as soon as possible, or he was sure his dick would explode.

Big, big, big - He wanted to fulfil his fantasy, so he needed big, big enough to hold him down, or just big enough that he wouldn’t be properly able to knock the body off as it’s stiff dick wedged itself in his virgin ass.

…

Oregon! Oregon was perfect. He was huge, one of the bigger ones of the group, only shorter than Illinois, but bulkier, his armour bulging against what used to be tender muscle, now only a soup of bone and skin, likely loose and wet, kept nice and fresh thanks to Temples need for humidity(  _ said it added flavour _ ).

With a skip to his step, and a rush under his skin, lighting his veins up, Buckey attached the suction cup base to Oregon’s codpiece. Pink against the tan armour goofy enough to make Bucky have to stifle a laugh behind his hand, gently flicking the tip of the false cock with his free one. God, how fucking stupid looking! Seriously!

If Biffs ghost was watching him, he hoped he got a good laugh out of watching his ex-enemy playing with a soft pink dildo, ass and cock hanging out as he just giggled to himself, losing himself to the ludicracy of what he was about to fuck himself on(  _ what his life had become _ ).


End file.
